Come True
by HerosReprise
Summary: The Infinite Tsukuyomi. Those under the influence, experience dream worlds where their deepest desires are fulfilled. What would he have dreamt of, if Kakashi Hatake had been captured in it?
1. Hangover

**Title:** Come True

 **Summary:** The Infinite Tsukuyomi. Those under the influence, experience dream worlds where their deepest desires are fulfilled.

What would he have dreamt of, if Kakashi Hatake had been captured in it?

 **Warnings:** Language, Sexual References

* * *

 _There is a moment upon awakening in which the haziness of slumber elicits a lag in the emergent consciousness of one's surroundings. In this moment, one may experience a limbo state between dreamscape and reality. Where one cannot ascertain whether what they have dreamt about is true or false._

* * *

 **Come True**

 **Chapter One – Hangover**

* * *

Kakashi's reflexes couldn't keep up with the sudden and dreadful comprehension that his students were in grave danger. That everyone, quite literally _everyone_ , was in danger.

That Madara…

 _Madara Uchiha had won._

Kakashi yearned to stand and fight back. Resist. Resolute to not going down without a spectacular fight.

 _'Don't underestimate me, I don't quit and I don't run…'_ a younger, determined, knucklehead's words echoed through his busy mind like clever lyrics. Inspiration at its finest.

However, as his body sluggishly caught up with his panicked mind and hauled himself upright, activating his defences, the apprehension simply dissipated. No sooner did he sit up and reach to his sides in search of kunai, did the reason for these drastic measures escape him. All logic and sense, evaporated.

The desire to respond to Sakura's high pitched squeal of defeat blurred into a constant dull whine, giving way to a searing migraine. One which grounded into his temples, sharp and heavy.

There was no enemy or battlefield. No Sasuke or Naruto, finally proving their true worth. Not even a concrete memory of the anything remotely relevant to his reality. Only a comfortable bed, upon which sat a lone, uncomfortable man.

* * *

"What the f-?" Kakashi could barely spit out the profanity. His throat may as well have been lined with industrial sandpaper. He wondered if he had smoked a cigar -or twelve- last night as he clutched his neck in agony. As if stroking it from the outside would somehow hydrate the _ash-tray_ within.

'What even happened last night?' he contemplated fleetingly, as he struggled to maintain a steady thought process.

A vague memory of Might Guy's audacious laughter came to mind but that wasn't exactly a pinpointing piece of evidence. This preceded a brief image of multiple empty sake cups stacked in four neat columns. And karaoke. _Oh fuck no!_ He didn't partake in karaoke did he?

Kakashi cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _The humiliation._ He hoped that whomever was responsible for initiating the mystery escapades of last night was worse off than he currently was. If not, he intended to make it that way.

A most disgusting mystery gunk, present in apparently all of the pores on his face, seemed to glue his right eye lid closed. He was pretty sure he ripped the entire layer lashes off forcing his eye open.

And the light. The belligerent sunlight seeping through the shudders of the window, burning his retina. May as well have been beams of glass shards.

Vision was a bitch. A blurry, irritating, dizzying bitch. Necessary, however, upon the concerning realisation that he had awoken in someone else's bed.

 _Fuck._

Even with the rest of his senses running at sub-par Kakashi conducted a rudimentary inspection of his surroundings. Not that he was in much of a condition for reconnaissance, but he was still a great deal more talented in this condition than others at their peak.

Nothing was familiar. Things were lazily strewn about in the generous sized bedroom. Untidy, but not unclean, kind of akin to the way he kept his own apartment. The two doors to the room, which he assumed lead to an en suite and the rest of the home were closed.

An antique record player stacked on a cinder block caught his eye briefly as it seemed a little out of place in a room so sophisticated and modern in its interior design.

The setting seemed safe enough but Kakashi couldn't shake the sickly- _off_ feeling he was getting. Like he had missed something threatening and dangerous.

The presence a large vase of potpourri likely suggested a woman lived there. If not that then the light blue small silken robe draped over a corner chair was a rational indication. Aromatic bed sheets were draped lazily over him. And he, -the other out of place element in the room- he was completely naked.

Starkers.

* * *

The inference was simple. A stranger's bedroom, nudity and a splitting hangover… You didn't need to be a highly trained jonin-cryptoanalyst to connect the dots.

A one night stand.

Kakashi had no ill-feelings about what his peers would later refer to as 'a most impressive conquest.' In fact he had no immediate feelings on the matter at all. It was easy to remain in a state of nonchalance when he couldn't remember a single moment of it. Easy to assume it was as equally underwhelming as all the previous one night stands before.

Infrequent occurrence as it was, he had been in this position before. The aftermath of which he found highly uncomfortable. Being susceptibly unclothed and unprotected wasn't helping either.

Instinctively, he reached beneath the pillow at his back, discovering a slip of black fabric. Thankful, he pulled it over his aching head. The vulnerability of complete exposure nullified significantly just by a simple mask.

Feeling as if he could think a little more clearly, his next point of action was deciding which mode of escape would be more effective. The window or the door. Although, since there was no one present he needed to sneak away from, the decision wasn't all that pressing. Ironically, he actually kind of liked the 'morning after sneak away' in which he would vacate, undetected, taking with him any and all evidence of himself having been there in the first place. The success of the departure amused and even somewhat thrilled him, twisted as it may be.

The other side of the bed displayed an indented pillow and rather rustled sheets. A clear indication that it had been more than just slept in. He brushed his fingers over the length of the bed, mulling over last night. It was rather curious that he would awaken alone.

How frustrating that he couldn't remember her face. Or any part of her for that matter.

The bedside table situated on ' _her side_ ' presented to him the most desirable glass of water he'd ever seen. Tall, clear, and coupled with two paracetamol pills and a note.

Ingrained red flags would normally protest Kakashi's decision to consume a beverage and pills from an unknown origin, but at this point he was willing to risk any poisoning in order to pacify his throbbing head and burning oesophagus.

Sweet, _mild,_ relief. He welcomed it. Glorious liquid turned the desert in his throat an oasis. If only it was accompanied by a generous meal of excessively fatty foods and a doubly caffeinated black coffee, he'd be set. Nevertheless, he felt grateful.

The note, written in a feminine cursive, read:

 _Yuanfen,_

 _Called on for an unforeseen urgent mission_

 _Home in a few days_

 _Lunches are in the fridge_

 _Xox  
M_

'Heh?'

Kakashi reread the slip of paper four times over, carefully as if it was written in hieroglyphics. He didn't know where to begin with it. So few questions were answered, so many more raised.

'Who the hell is Yuanfen?'

Kakashi wondered if he had used a fake name last night to pick up this women.

To his knowledge, he had never done that before. He was too mindful of the fact that most shinobi -and plenty of civilians for that matter- already knew him by name. Attempting to pass off a fake name probably would have backfired, unless of course he was using a transformation. But then, that just wasn't like him at all. And even if it was, how likely was it he'd pick a weird name like Yuanfen if he did conduct a transformation? It sounded foreign. Not even particularly interesting or sexy.

' _Home in a few days'_

That was another particularly concerning line. It suggested that she expected him to be waiting for her return. _How delusional, what did she think this was?_  
He then wondered if the note was left for someone else, like an unwitting boyfriend or husband. The thought of which forced him out of the bed and across the room to a pile of clothing housing what he knew to be _his_ shinobi uniform.

He disregarded the reluctance his limbs purported and the heaviness in his knees and simply moved. Intense focus and urgency overcame him. He decided to forgo playing detective and instead just leave as discretely as possibly.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the repercussions inflicted, rightfully so, from a hypothetical, cuckolded husband. More that he had a reputation to keep intact. Young shinobi who supposedly looked up to him who'd give him an earful if this got out.

He dressed himself without tact, his buttons misaligned, collar askew, he didn't even bother putting his headband on. He shoved the note in his pocket before making for the window. Upon drawing the blinds, swiftly and silently, Kakashi caught sight of his own reflection in the glass pane and froze.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

* * *

His left eye.

He kept it habitually closed so as not to waste unnecessary chakra on his sharingan. But where his closed eye lid would usually grace a grisly vertical scar lengthened from above his eyebrow down to his cheek bone, there was nothing. Nothing but clear, flawless skin. A few more wrinkles than he remembered, but no mark.

'It can't be,' he whispered. Gliding the pads of his calloused fingers down his face in bewilderment. He opened his eye, slowly and with dread, revealing the same matching, ebony iris gazing back at him through the reflection.

Kakashi began blinking repeatedly. Partly because it had been a lifetime since he'd actually blinked his eyes simultaneously, strange a sensation as it was. And then partly because he was hoping he'd open his eyes again and discover that his mind was just playing tricks. He'd go back to 'normal.'

He didn't.

Kakashi became acutely aware of the nauseous feeling in his stomach, on the brink of declaring war. He clutched at his abdomen trying to manually hold himself together. Unsure if it was a delayed symptom of his hangover or if the conundrum facing himself was making him physically ill.

The thesis statement of his peril was no longer 'What happened last night?' nor 'Whose home is this?' it was 'Who am _I_?"

A genjutsu.

It _had_ to be a genjutsu.

He took deliberate, laboured breaths. He was unaccustomed to having a panic attack. Not even the type to get worked up by high intensity situations. Largely the opposite in fact. He was a rational man and the rational -and only- explanation for his change in appearance, was that he was caught in a genjutsu.

Fixing his eyes closed, he focussed his breathing and forced his composure. He concentrated on the gentle ebb and flow of his chakra. Tracking it, feeling it, understanding it before compelling it to cascade harshly in on itself. A technique that had been flawless in the past for fleeing from a genjutsu.

"Release!" he called and opened his eyes to an unchanged location.

'Why didn't it work?' he griped before suppressing another wave of nausea.

Kakashi had been so hung up on his own inaccurate reflection in the glass pane that he, up until now, hadn't noticed the scenic view from the bedroom window.

The house he had awoken in was situated in a familiar location on a far edge of the Leaf Village. From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the Hokage mountain. A grand, awe-inspiring monument detailing the Great Stone Faces of the Hokage past and present.

But it was all wrong.

For adjacent to his late sensei, Minato Namikaze, placed an entirely different fifth Hokage. It was not Lady Tsunade, of the legendary Sannin. It was impossible. A cruel trick. A lie. A fake. _A dream._

'It's not real,' he told himself.

Again, and more urgently than before, Kakashi attempted to break the genjutsu. Siphoning what little chakra he could still bear to shift. Except that his body wasn't exactly in the condition to be causing internal chakra-tsunamis.

'Not real'

He couldn't hold himself together much longer.

To refrain from being sick all over the carpeted floor, he reached for what he rightfully assumed was the doorhandle for the en suite. Proceeding with caution he opened the door, planning on hurling into the nearest available vessel.

'Not real'

He didn't. He couldn't.

The en suite was actually already in use.

'Not real'

A girl. Young. About three or four maybe, he wasn't sure. He didn't have a very good frame of reference for young children. He didn't like them, outright avoided them when he could. She was sitting on the toilet and dangling her stumpy little legs which didn't reach the floor. It took her a moment to notice him standing there.

'Not real'

All rehearsed demeanours of 'calm' were depleted. His face heated up and sweat, laced with that filthy mystery gunk pooled in his palms. He was probably more embarrassed than her at the intrusion. That's not to say that she wasn't unhappy about it.

"I'm in here!" she yelled an angry look plastered on her childish face, but Kakashi had slammed the door closed on her before the conclusion of the first syllable.

'It's just a dream,' he told himself as he shook. The nausea had passed but he was left raw and weak.

The sound of the toilet flushing had Kakashi taking 3 steps backwards against the wall. As if the three year old was a vicious wild animal set to pounce into the room any moment, wreaking havoc on all those present.

'Not real'

Fake. It's all fake. The home. The incorrect Hokage. And she's, she's just a little girl. The one that happens to live in this stranger's home.

'Not real'

Just a girl.

One with a prominent head of long, shiny, blatant white hair.

* * *

 ** _A/N: So I promised myself I wouldn't start any new stories until old ones are finished. But you know… that was wishful thinking…_**

 ** _I am still trying to focus on_ Four Weddings and a Funeral _but this might serve as some nice '_ get over my stupid writer's block' _material. Plus I have undying love for Kakashi XD_**

 ** _Continuation of this story will be highly dependent on my muse… and any encouragement from you guys. So if you likey likey… please leave a reviewy reviewy. XD_**


	2. Offspring

**A/N: Thank you dearly for the reviews, you have no idea what they mean to me. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter, even though it's a little short :P**

* * *

 **Come True**

 **Chapter Two – Offspring**

* * *

"Sorry Daddy, Hatachi was in the other bathroom and I couldn't hold it any longer," said the white-haired girl. Her voice was high-pitched, yet not in an annoying whiney way, kind of sweet in fact. Although, her pronunciation was imperfect. She hadn't mastered the 'th' sound and 'other bathroom' became 'offer bafferoom.'

She exited the en-suite and headed straight for the bedroom door. She didn't give Kakashi so much as a second glance not to mention pick up on the hostility he was emitting.

Despite her miniature, frumpy, _extremely unthreatening_ stature and the way she waddled her teeny legs the length of the room to depart, Kakashi had backed himself to the corner of the room. A kunai was firmly clutched in his right hand, shielded behind his back.

He was shaking.

 _'Sorry Daddy_ '

Had he heard that correctly? Had she really said that? Addressed to him so effortlessly with that bewildering title.

'I can't be a father?!' Kakashi screamed at himself. His headache violently echoed his inner turmoil.

His vehement grip on the kunai faltered and the tool clamoured to the floor as he brought his hands to his head, applying pressure to his aching temples. He had lost all grasp of his composure. And composure was his specialty.

'I'm not a father,' he tried to reassure himself whilst taking deep deliberate breaths.

Perhaps once or twice, long ago, he had considered fatherhood, fleetingly, as a _distant_ future objective. But the life of a jonin had meant picturing any future at all was ill-advised. Let alone wishing to be responsible for a whole extra person. A helpless, tiny, fragile, _chubby_ person.

Moreover, his personality wasn't exactly cracked up for caregiving. He lacked the sensitivity and the reliability. He was accustomed to coming home to an empty house where he could think clearly.

Sure he wanted to see people be their best. And he'd always help a comrade in need. He'd put his life on the line for the good of the village. But there was a streak of self-centredness he had grown to appreciate about himself. He wasn't necessarily a lonely man, simply a loner of a man. And that was fine. Save fatherhood for the Asuma Sarutobis and the Iruka Uminos of the world. Heck, even Might Guy might be more appropriate.

Upon calming himself down, Kakashi's brilliant mind rapidly reviewed everything he had experienced this morning. He listed for himself the possibilities that could explain the bizarreness.

1\. Substance abuse of the previous night's antics extended beyond the innocent alcoholic beverage and effects had not yet worn off

2\. The paracetamol pills he had taken moments ago had been tampered with

3\. A gifted Yamanaka clan member was fucking with his mind

And, what was most likely,

4\. He had been caught in _extraordinary genjutsu_

He was 99% certain a genjutsu was in play. He couldn't seem to remember what exactly he was doing last night, or the day before for that matter. A tell-tale sign.

And _her_ , the girl… her hair… he couldn't get over it. She couldn't be real.

A knife-edged realisation struck Kakashi's mind as he replayed exactly what the girl had said. He had been fixating over the word 'Daddy' and its implications all this time, the rest of her sentence hadn't sunk in until now.

 _'Sorry Daddy, Hatachi was in the other bathroom'_

 _'…Hatachi was in the other bathroom'_

 _'Hatachi'_

There's another one.

 _Fuck._

* * *

After fifteen more failed attempts at escaping the genjutsu, a painful wave of indigestion -which he originally presumed must have been a stress-induced heart attack- Kakashi considered escaping through the window once more.

He had no sharingan to perform a succinct analysis of his own chakra, and that of what was around him. It was dangerous for him to be here. In a place so unknown.

Yet, there he stayed, pacing back and forth.

Kakashi had been caught in some treacherous genjutsu in his time. Utter torture many of them.

He looked at his gloved hands, opening and closing his fists a few times. Contemplating.

 _It seems I'm not in any pain, nor any immediate danger._

Genjutsus that were designed to delay or distract usually mimicked ones commonplace surroundings. The true art of genjutsu is inconspicuousness. Information could be seized, and missions foiled without the victim even realising it.

But this was entirely the opposite.

What was the purpose? The motive? Why trap him in an alternate universe with the children he never had? It utterly baffled him. What purpose could something so detailed and elaborate have?

 _Why?_

At the basin in the en-suite, Kakashi cupped his hands around the stream of running water. Collecting it, he pooled it over his unmasked face. The cool liquid was sobering and he felt the grime clear from his pores.

His head told him to evacuate. Leave through the window and never look back.

Yet he felt pinned to confines of this estranged house. The overbearing curiosity of the girl with hair as white a snow brought him to a crossroads.

Then again, there were _always_ hints and clues within a genjutsu that could help a victim learn who the caster was and how to escape.

Kakashi deduced he had no other option but to allow the theatrics to play out before him (at least that's what he told himself.)

Summoning the courage, he exited the bedroom the same way the girl had 10 minutes prior, unsure exactly what was in store for him.

* * *

"Daddy, come see come see!" she squealed the moment he entered the room.

She was the only other person in the expansive open plan living space, which combined a lounge, dining room and kitchen. Her small size was remarkably disproportionate to the volume of space around him. Yet her zeal and aura seemed to overfill the emptiness.

Kakashi stood still, taking everything in for a moment before she started frantically waving a piece of paper at him like it was a flag of surrender.

 _So impatient._

She was sitting on a highchair, it must have been a feat pulling her small frame up so high unaided. Paper and coloured pencils were splayed out on the dining table in front of her.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he had to play the part of 'Dad' at least long enough to find out what the fuck all of this was really about. He cautiously ambled his way to her, keeping the rest of his senses on high alert.

"And what did you draw..." _crap,_ he had no idea what her name was "… eh … princess?"

An awkward recovery but successful nonetheless. She accepted the pet name, and beamed her icy blue eyes at him.

"Look, Look," she excitedly placed the picture flat on the table and folded out the creases that were formed from all of the flailing about. "Guess who it is?"

Kakashi studied the drawing, discovering a fairly reasonable attempt at a certain pug, ninja hound he knew well. Her effort was pretty shonky though. Eyes were drawn merely millimetres from ears and way out of proportion. A tail, curly and thin like a pig's, not to mention the silly looking smile she had given the most apathetic creature he had ever known.

Toddler art-critique aside, something that stood out to Kakashi in the drawing was how immensely accurate she had drawn the Hatake emblem, worn on the pug's back. It wasn't a simple symbol to draw. Yet she had it to a tee. _Impressive._

"It's Pakkun!" she exclaimed before Kakashi could correctly venture his guess.

 _Very impatient._

"It's... really good," Kakashi replied, some-what honestly, yet due to his lack of enthusiasm and the fact she seemed to expect a much grander deliberation over an average effort, her face fell into that of disappointment.

 _Oh No!_

 _What did I do?_

 _Please don't cry._

 _I can't deal with that right now._

Kakashi fumbled with his response, "No… No really… It's really-"

The sound of the door from the corridor sliding open and closed stole the girl's attention. Kakashi welcomed the distraction of another person entering the room, especially if it would spare any unnecessary waterworks.

The sight of the approaching boy, however, gave Kakashi whiplash.

* * *

The boy may as well have been a clone Kakashi made at the age of 11 or 12.

The same thicket of white hair, which unlike the girl, whose fell straight and long down her back, spiked up in all directions.

The same eyes in both shape and colour. Half lidded, like he was perpetually uninterested. The rounding of his face and distinction of his cheekbones not that your everyday bystander would notice the resemblance, uncanny nonetheless.

In fact, the absence of a mask was the only difference Kakashi could immediately pinpoint. Remarkable.

The boy, walked into the room, neglected any formal greeting and threw the towel he had been using to dry his hair over the back of a couch.

Upon seeing this, the girl shot Kakashi a pointed look. He'd seen this look before.

Back when his genin Team Seven would train together under his instruction. On the rare occasion that Sasuke would stuff something up, Naruto would shoot Kakashi an expectant look, as if he couldn't wait to see Sasuke get told off for his mistakes.

At that age, rivalry was often about wanting to laugh at the other's misfortunes rather than encourage each other's triumphs. Maybe sibling rivalry wasn't so different. Not that Kakashi had ever experienced it himself personally.

Perhaps he should admonish his so-… this boy, for throwing a wet towel on a fabric upholstered couch. That was both disrespectful and a sure fire way to get a mould problem. But Kakashi was too busy reeling from the overwhelming idea that his _supposed son_ was strutting around in front of him to even consider how he would formulate a suitable reprimand.

The kid, the mini-Kakashi, had stormed into the kitchen, busying himself in morning ritual.

The window for her brother to get into trouble had closed and the girl was not happy about it. Chuffed, she crossed her arms and pouted.

Kakashi allowed himself to fall into the closest dining chair, opposite the girl. He was drained. Perhaps _that_ was the purpose of the genjutsu. To flood his mind with emotionally armed content. The complexity was in the implication not the execution.

He was watching a child draw a picture of a dog, and a pre-teen prepare breakfast. There was nothing startling or challenging about this scene. Until indefinite articles 'a' are replaced with the possessive pronoun, 'his.'

 _His child._

 _His daughter._

 _His son._

His brain was mush.

Giving up and going back to bed was oddly tempting despite everything.

Sets of chopsticks, glasses and a pitcher of water were set in front of him, methodically. Kakashi assumed 'breakfast' was a part of the boy's pre-set chores. Set table, serve food, clear table.

He remembered Guy having to do those things at that age, on the rare occasion he slept over at a friend's home. Of course, Guy put a lot more fervour into his chores and managed to turn simple tasks into grand challenges and even training exercises.

 _'I can do all of these dishes in less than 2 minutes!'_ he would announce.

This boy, however, had no intention of acting like he enjoyed what he was doing.

"Move your shit Minori," he grumbled as he began to clear her pencils and drawings from the table, uncaring if they were crumpled or torn in the process.

"No, Don't… Hatachi!" she cried, trying to defend her precious art work.

A tug of war seemed to break out. Kakashi knew exactly how this would end. Torn picture = child crying. He snatched away the Pakkun drawing at lightning speed, before Armageddon could be unleashed.

Hatachi jumped at the sudden unexpected movement. He looked at Kakashi in shock.

It was actually the first time he had acknowledged the man was even there, Kakashi was starting to wonder if maybe he was a figment of the girl's imagination. That'd be a creative and original idea for a genjutsu.

"Can I keep this?" Kakashi asked, evenly. He had already started folding the paper up and placing it in his pocket before she replied. Perhaps there was something of a clue in it after all, the perfection of the Hatake emblem did not sit right with him.

"O'Course," Minori nodded after a brief pause of contemplation. She swiftly turned back to her brother, tongue stuck out. Gloating in a victory.

Hatachi muttered an incomprehensible, "whatever" before returning to the kitchen.

 _Major attitude problem._

A slow-cooker was set up on the marble stone counter of the kitchen. Breakfast had likely been cooking overnight which explained why the whole room seemed to smell warm and delicious from the moment Kakashi had first entered.

A steaming bowl of fried vegetables and rice was set in front of him at the table. And only then did he realise how severely he was starving.

It was strange. He knew he was in an illusion. There wasn't actually a physical bowl of food in front of him. But the hunger, that was a psychological response, that was real… subjectively.

The boy placed the last bowl at the table and took his place next to his sister. He impolitely started eating before stating his thanks.

Four bowls were placed at the table.

Four.

The place setting next to Kakashi had no chair, yet the table was set just like everyone else.

He stared at it, deeply unsettled.

 _Who were they expecting?_

 _Please don't let there be a third child._

"Hatachi, you should wait for grandpa before you start stuffing your face," Minori scolded.

Kakashi's eyes widened.

 _Grandpa?_

 _No way._

"Good morning," came a deep voice from the corridor.

Kakashi spun around and sprung to his feet.  
 _It couldn't be._

"G'Morning," Minori cheered, happily waving to the newcomer.

To be honest, at this point Kakashi really had no further reason to be surprised, all things considered. But he couldn't help it. It was simply too much to take. Too cruel a trick.

"You know you made the morning's papers Kakashi," the elderly man said as he wheeled his wheelchair into the living room, "I'm so proud of you."

His heart rate accelerated.

"It's y-you," Kakashi sputtered.

He watched the man wheel into the room. To the table. Right by his side.

He was close enough to smell. Close enough to touch.

"Father."

* * *

 **A/N: YAY! Another Update. Aha I guess this chapter ends similarly to the previous one. I'm trying to practice suspense writing. It's really hard.**

 **I hope you like how it's going so far. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **You could also follow me on Tumblr and Twitter xx.**


	3. Captured

**A/N: Better late than never ;)**

* * *

 **Come True**

 **Chapter Three – Captured**

* * *

And there he was.

His face, timeworn and wrinkled. His jaded eyes, shepparded by crow's-feet. His white hair, thin and receding. An elderly man.

His admired father.

"Gee, what's wrong with you Kakashi, you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Kakashi almost laughed. In fact a hint of a smile caught at the corner of his lips, a gesture concealed by his mask.

 _You could say that,_ he thought.

As quickly as it struck, all presence of humour left him like water down a wide drain. Kakashi had faith in his own ability to separate real from fake. He wasn't naïve. He knew that the dead were dead and he refused to participate in this make-believe reality that suggested there could be a life with them otherwise.

His father regarded him quizzically. Waiting for an explanation for Kakashi's sudden rigidness and defensive stance.

 _Blend in, ascertain the jutsu's purpose and its user._

That had been his plan, albeit fleeting in his mind, crushed by the weight of this unexpected development.

I mean, it was his father after all. _His father._

"I'm… don't worry about me… I'm… I'm just-"

Speechless? Clueless as how to approach this bizarreness?

Kakashi couldn't remember the last time he was at such a loss for words. He was always the cunning wordsmith. A charmer too. Just the right comment or snide remark was always prepared for the opportune moment. He was bilingual in flattery, a manipulators best asset. His smart mouth was rather infamous for getting him out of trouble, and somewhat responsible for getting him in it.

"Maybe you should go back to sleep," his father muttered, having already brushed Kakashi's newfound speech impediment aside, too happy and proud to sense an otherwise cause for concern. Fortunately.

With the thrust of his forearms, Sakumo wheeled his chair to the family dining table. A newspaper firmly gripped in his hand crumpled slightly as he propelled his wheels forward.

He was so different. _Old._ Presumably crippled. Sluggish even. Yet, somehow, he was just as Kakashi remembered. Easy-going, confident, humble. It was in his proud, wrinkled grin. His straight and strong posture despite an obvious handicap. His scent. Like old books and expensive cologne.

It was a genjutsu. It wasn't him. It wasn't Sakumo Hatake.

But it also _was._

"Daddy's in the paper? Let me see!" squealed the young girl, whose presence Kakashi had momentarily forgotten about.

Her excited shift in volume and childish enthusiasm stole the attention of the old man. Granting her his affectionate greeting. This short exchange allowed Kakashi a much needed moment to think clearly without the spell bounding gaze of a dead man.

 _A newspaper article about me?_

Potentially, a treasure trove for the answers to this inexplicable mystery. As he had noted before, there were always clues about the caster and nature of the genjutsu within the vision itself. What passes for fact in this world may have traces of fact in the real world.

With the paper placed in the centre of the dining room table, Sakumo opened to the page he had doggy eared revealing a full page article. His infectious smile at the parchment was a pride display eerily reminiscent of the girl presenting her Pakkun portrait only moments earlier.

The similarities between the two of them did not go unnoticed by Kakashi.

Minori had stood up on her chair leaning forward so she could see better, her hair falling dangerously close to her food.

Kakashi briefly eyed the boy who had been silent for the entire exchange. He seemed characteristically uninterested, oblivious even.

"What does it say, daddy?" the toddler asked, ardently sweet.

* * *

 ** _Fugitive Captured_**

 _After four years on the run, Kabuto Yakushi, pictured above, will finally answer for his crimes against the Hidden Leaf. Among other more serious offences he has been charged with larceny, impersonation of a superior officer, unethical medical conduct, accessory after the fact and cooperation with a rogue shinobi, believed to be Orochimaru of the legendary Sannin. Further details are not available at this time._

 _Yakushi is currently being detained in a prison, location classified, under the strict scrutiny of the Fifth Hokage's ANBU black ops._

 _This comes at a good time for Lord Fifth who has faced problem after problem since taking office just under six months ago._

 _The jonin team, captained by Kakashi Hatake, pictured below, carried out the month long recon, locate and capture mission without incident. His valour and initiative have proven to be a true asset to the village and many town's people have questioned whether he was wrongfully overlooked for Hokage candidacy._

The mention of Kabuto and Orochimaru was certainly curious. High ranking rouge shinobi. The latter of which _was_ a member of the legendary Sannin. However, neither of them were genjutsu visionaries to his knowledge. He doubted that they, alone, could be responsible for a genjutsu of this calibre. Then again, they did use the reanimation jutsu, so genjutsu users could be at their disposal.

 _Hmm…_

Blurry memories of a night out drinking with friends lingered in his memory, but nothing of a mission capturing Kabuto Yakushi, which according to this paper was successfully completed only yesterday.

"That's you dad," Minori giggled as she pointed out the portrait accompanying the article.

Sakumo gave the young girl, who apparently didn't have the reading comprehension skills required to read for herself, a brief, dumbed down synopsis for the article which included the phrases, "you're very brave father" and "captured the bad man" and "did the entire village proud."

It was strange. Whilst you could read the second half of the article as a commending report on Kakashi, and it seemed that was the way his father certainly took it; to Kakashi, more so it was a scathing review of the practices of the Fifth Hokage.

And as he recalled from the mountain carving he had observed shortly before, a completely different Fifth Hokage than should be.

 _More questions raised than answered, yet again._

Kakashi's shoulders drooped and he couldn't contain a deep, exasperated sigh from escaping. He was still so physically unhinged. A threatening fatigue clouding his ability to interpret even the very basics of this nonsense.

 _Why me?_

"No need for such a solemn look son, it's not the worst photo," Sakumo chuckled, patting Kakashi's back.

Kakashi barely managed to refrain from flinching at the touch. How long had it been since his father pet his back?

Sakumo thought he was dissatisfied with his picture. How ridiculous! People so easily filled their own narrative for abnormal behaviour. Even people as intuitive as his father.

Nevertheless, it was a good thing.

After all if he noticed someone in his village acting out and suspected them of being stuck in a genjutsu, he'd insist they'd be locked in a cell until they could be helped. They could be a danger to society and themselves otherwise.

Kakashi needed more information, and considering how these phony family members seem to volunteer up useful images and articles willy-nilly, if he could just keep his cool and focus he might just figure this out.

 _Act the part._

"Shame they didn't put up a team shot, it's not like I was the only one there," Kakashi drawled in a manner of deflection.

Rather it was a shame he couldn't remember who was on that team. He wondered briefly whether it was his Team 7. But the article had stated 'jonin' team. So there was that. Unless of course the members of Team 7 had in fact graduated to jonin. He couldn't be sure.

"Modest as ever," Sakumo deadpanned bringing his hand to rest on Kakashi's arm. Squeezing slightly. The gleam in the man's eyes. He was just about overflowing in pride.

Kakashi couldn't help feel bashful as his cheeks reddened. It was crazy. He didn't deserve any of the praise, he didn't actually complete the mission. And more importantly, that man wasn't really his father. But the way he congratulated him was so reminiscent of the real man.

There was such a harsh juxtaposition between the wholesome way he lived and the egregious way he died. But Kakashi had always tried his best to remember him as he was, when things were good… so good.

He was proud and grateful and modest and kind. He made him feel strong and whole. He made him feel, at home, at peace in a time of war.

The abrupt clatter of chopsticks into an empty bowl and a chair scraping against the floor stole away all focus.

The boy, Hatachi, who had remained entirely disinterested in the article and any person in his company swiftly made quick work of cleaning his dishes and fetching a pre-packaged bento lunch box from the refrigerator.

"I'm off," he muttered, by way of goodbye, hardly addressing anyone in particular.

"Wait, Hatachi before you leave," Sakumo spoke up, almost too slow for the quick paced youth.

"What?"

It wasn't like he was _angry_ or any particular emotion at all was evident on his face but the boy looked… inconvenienced.

Kakashi remembered that exact feeling when he was young. Just wanting to go about his routine the way he had set it. The annoyance of having to put up with, _people._

He remembered, regretfully, treating his father as if he was a disruption on occasion. It was remarkable seeing this replica of his past self, acting so similarly.

"Would you please take your sister to the Sarutobi compound on your way to the academy?"

So he was still in the academy. Kakashi caught himself wondering what sort of potential the kid had, before shaking the deranged, irrelevant thought from his mind.

"Mom said _you_ would do that," Hatachi grimaced, hesitantly, knowing he was in cautious territory.

If Sakumo was peeved by the back chat he didn't show it. "Yes, and I _would_ , but I have a nurses appointment I need to go to in the next 30 minutes. It was rescheduled only this morning."

Sakumo's expression was so kind and sincere, charming even. You'd think that would be the end of it. You couldn't possibly say no to that.

Hatachi wiped his brow in annoyance, "But, I'm training with Tadaki before the academy, I'll be late if I don't leave right now."

He turned briefly to glare daggers at his sister who was still clad in paw print pyjamas, her breakfast unfinished. She wasn't in a state for leaving the house. Knowing this, her face fell into a guilty frown.

"Maybe, if you had of told her to get ready instead of flaunting that paper around," he mumbled.

Kakashi was taken aback by this statement. Whilst he could empathise with the boy in that he remembered the uncomfortable feeling of running late (not that that trait remained with him into adulthood). He even used to lash out at teammates or comrades for being the cause of delay, daring enough to tell off his own sensei at one point.

Sure, he was prone to whining and complaining about his father's decisions and notions, usually rightfully so. But even _he_ had known there was a boundary. And he would never have spoken to his own father like that lest incurring a swift flogging.

And, not that he had ever had any grandparents or younger siblings of his own, but back talking those people would be cause for even worse punishment, surely.

"Could you not train with Tadaki _after_ school instead? We all need to pull our weight when your mother's away."

"I agree," the boy chuffed, "Maybe Dad should take her then, since he's not doing anything."

Sternly now, Sakumo rose his voice, a well-practiced disciplinary tone emerged, "Now, Now, Your father has his first day off in over a month, he should be catching up on sleep if anything."

"But"

"No 'buts'!"

The situation was spiralling out of control and it was not helping his headache at all. This had to stop.

In the interim of the bickering, Minori placed her small hand over Kakashi's fingers, squeezing ever so slightly. Her eyes were brimmed with tears. Wordlessly pleading with him.

Of course her feelings would be hurt. Having to watch her family fight in front of her and they were fighting about who would be burdened with her this morning. He couldn't take that helpless teary look for a second longer.

"Argh, this is so unfair!" Hatachi growled.

"It's fine, I'll take her!" Kakashi spoke up.

"Kakashi please, you really should rest," Sakumo insisted.

"I should, but since I'm up anyway, it's no trouble."

Actually it was a lot of trouble. For one, he wasn't entirely certain if the Sarutobi compound would be where he thought it was, nor which residence exactly he was taking the girl or even for what purpose. Having to ask someone was sure to blow his cover.

Plus this little girl was wildly effecting his judgement and decision making skills. He needed to be separated from her as soon and possible hopefully avoiding as much one-on-one interaction as possible.

Thanklessly, Hatachi nodded and dashed out the door before anyone could object.

That boy was an aneurysm waiting to happen. Why anyone would willingly choose to be a parent, Kakashi did not know. The contraceptive advertisement wrote itself.

* * *

"That boy! He's exactly like your father used to be I swear, fortunately they'll grow out of it," Sakumo chuckled as he hugged his granddaughter goodbye, "Don't _you_ ever grow up little angel."

She grinned, tears finally dried, "I won't." She kissed him on the cheek. Before he wheeled away, taking their collective dirty dishes to the sink.

"I'm so sorry to do this son, I know you really need to rest but I was supposed to get these things done for your wife."

He presented a short list of chores. The same hand writing as the note from the mysterious 'M'

 _Shit._

Weird, all this time the children had been referring to their mother Kakashi didn't even _think_ about the whole 'wife' implication. Hadn't stopped to put it all together.

M, was _his_ wife. The mother of his supposed children. They were this… family. And they all lived together in one house with his elderly father. The five of them. And they ate breakfast together at the dining room table. And she made bento lunch boxes and left them in the fridge.

"It's just a few things in town, I'm sure you can get it all down after you drop Min off and be home before lunch to sleep the rest of the day."

"Yeah, I guess," Kakashi shrugged, his attention divided, as he mentally reviewed every woman he knew or had ever known with a name begging with M. None stuck out to him as potential 'wife candidates'. Not that he had a clear idea in mind of what he would look for in a long term relationship.

"I'm off," Sakumo waved, "See you later."

"Okay… See you later."

Only realising after he had left that there was a high chance he'd never see him again.

* * *

Kakashi opened just about every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen searching for more drugs to cure to his pounding head.

What sort of people need to own an electric crepe maker? How often do you really need to make crepes? Really! And is it still so often that an entire independent appliance would be so much simpler than using a normal pan?

"Where the fuck?!" Kakashi muttered, almost pulling a drawer filled with plastic spoons clad with colourful happy characters from its hinges.

At last, he found a small cupboard up high, where a child couldn't reach, containing a sophisticated med kit including some _little white miracles_.

"Thank God!"

After downing two more pills with a glass of water only then did Kakashi realise the girl had returned from her room, dressed and ready to leave. He wasn't certain exactly how long she had been standing in the doorway.

Had she seen him tear apart the family kitchen like a mad man?

She was crying again.

"What? No, what's wrong"

She sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes and ensuring she looked him directly in the eyes, "You're not my real dad, are you?"

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to review, follow and fave on your way out. Reviews remind me that my writing is actually being read… and hopefully enjoyed. And gives my pathetic self a teensy ego-boost…**

 **Plus, gives me the motivation to update much quicker.**

 **Let me know what you think… xx**


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